Satisfied
by Sapphic Peach
Summary: A philosophical conflict with the government. A self-insert, angst-filled story written by a senior with way too much time on her hands.
1. The Room Where It Happened

**A/N: Welcome to my fanfiction, I sincerely hope you enjoy my trash!**

 **Warnings: I think there's like one curse word? Awkward main character? Is self-insert a warning?**

1\. The Room Where It Happened

I'm exhausted. It's halfway through class and I can feel my eyelids growing heavier by the moment. I'd most likely have drifted off into my own little world by now if it wasn't for the loud, heated debate between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. This is a daily battle, one that amuses Mr. G to no end, most of the time he doesn't even say anything except for the occasional encouraging comment- and I don't mean, 'yeah, that's right!', more like, 'If he stops listening to you, throw your shoe at him!' (though he now has to remind us not literally, after Alexander took the words all too seriously and ended up landing himself in the office). It doesn't help that the two are a good distance away from each other in the classroom, causing them to need to yell.

Recently, we've been discussing the 1700's- a period all too close to their hearts. Their names aren't just out of convenience, they are actually descendants of the founding fathers, and they refuse to let anyone forget it (not that I mind, I think it's pretty cool and Mr. G sure gets a kick out of it). Mr. G can hardly get through one bullet of notes before the two are at each other's throats. At this point, their yelling is so jumbled together that I can't really understand- though I know I'm on Alexander's side- I tend to agree with him on most things- even if I don't necessarily agree with the way he executes his argument. Even if I can't understand, at this point, it doesn't matter. In a few moments G will stop them and move on to the next bullet point. I'm a little excited to speak about it- we're briefly covering John Laurens' proposed plan of emancipating the slaves in exchange for them joining in the Revolutionary War. It's a short window, considering Mr. G spends roughly ten minutes on each war, he always telling us that the wars never matter (which royally pisses off Alexander, who's a big believer in a war being significant to change).

I examine the class for a moment, most of them completely ignore the debate, focusing on writing notes. My eyes wander to G for a moment, he's sitting on top of the desk in front of me, feet up, without a care in the world. I almost want to laugh, his casualness is part of what makes him so intimidating. Just recognizing his proximity makes me nervous, as if he can sense my stupid.

Aaron speaks, up surprisingly, he usually keeps his thought to himself, so the words don't fail to grab my attention, "Thomas, Alexander, can we agree that this debate is dumb and immature? Can't we just leave this argument at 'wars don't matter anyway'." I'm no longer surprised after hearing his words, Aaron hates debates and he makes no secret of it. He believes that you get nowhere by constantly expressing your opinion and instead, you should bite your tongue and rough through everything else. He sits beside me and I can always hear his annoyed murmurs to himself while the two have each other by the throats.

"Aaron, if you aren't here to debate and interpret, why are you in my class?" G asks with a sigh, crossing his arms and leaning against the white board- when did he move from the desk?, eying Aaron. Jefferson and Alexander laugh hard, waving goodbye to Aaron with smug smiles on their faces. Jefferson and Alexander fight, sure, but they always seem to hate Aaron more- or, at least, his opinions . I can see Aaron's face redden slightly, he grumbles to himself, continuing writing in his notebook. I feel bad, there's really no room to defy the two of them in this class. G continues to speak, his attention now on the duo, "Neither one of you is right, anyway," he says, before explaining to them why no side is more important than the other.

Alexander and Jefferson both cross their arms, seeming unconvinced by G's argument. G seems to not care as he goes back to reading the bullet points, I'm always amazed by how G's voice on it's own stops the chatter completely, "Can anyone tell me why the plan of manumission was so significant?"

I shoot up my hand, and immediately regret it, feeling the eyes of the class glue themselves to me. When I don't speak right away, G raises an eyebrow, gesturing for me to speak. I take a deep breath, "Well, if we consider the context, this is a time of great change… America hasn't even been created yet, it's all just a notion of a nation, but the county is already starting to be formed. Proposing such a big change during this time of change means a lot... And it was a great opportunity to address something this big..." I answer softly. I must sound like an idiot, the words always sound better in my head…

Thomas snickers, "Yeah, but it didn't happen-"

"No, no." G interrupts him immediately, tossing a marker in his direction that barely misses his head. Mr. G does this all the time, it's his way of telling whoever is speaking to shut up. Alexander snorts behind the hand covering his mouth. "Thomas, it isn't always about what happened. Sometimes it's deeper than that. Every document matters or else it wouldn't have been written. This was a plan, whether it was passed or not doesn't matter. What matters is that there are differing ideologies."

I almost smile at G's words, but I know that Thomas would try and fight with me if I made such a move and that's the last thing that I want.

Thomas continues, seemingly unfazed by the marker throwing incident, "Well, slaves weren't considered people at the time, anyway." he says flatly, "So, the document doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything."

I know I said moments ago that I wasn't going to argue with Thomas, but his comment set me off, "Except that black people have always been people, whether white people chose to acknowledge it or not. And another thing, you said that statement as if no one consider them to be people- obviously, abolitionists did or they wouldn't have suggested it in the first place."

I hear one of my friends, Hercules Mulligan, whistle and then break into a laugh, totally amused by my words. "I feel like we should applaud." he says jokingly and he actually does clap his hands together, my cheeks heating up. Normally, G would stop him immediately, but this time around, he just smirks slightly.

After the single applause dies down, Jefferson shoots a glare at Hercules which Hercules returns with a wide, unforgiving grin. The look that Jefferson then directs at me makes my heart to stop, and I once again go back to thinking arguing with him is a bad idea. Even if he was wrong, he's known for getting what he wants- I'm certain he could destroy me with a couple of words if he wanted to. And I'd been doing such a good job of staying under the radar. Sure, I spoke in class, but nothing to provoke outrage.

Mr. G looks between Jefferson and I a few times, "Nothing more to say? It's a shame, it was getting interesting." he snickers, before turning back to the board and walking through the rest of the notes.

For the rest of the class period, it's rather quiet, a few people make comments. Lafayette, my friend and a French exchange student, makes some comments on how American history is presented differently there. Thomas and Alexander make the occasional snide comment. Most notably, John Laurens, another close friend of mine, speaks out, making comments on slavery that make me smile to myself as I write my notes.

At the tail end of the period, Mr. G steps a little past the board, pinning up a paper that leads us all to bounce in our seats a bit. We know what it is before he even says, "Your grades for the quarter are up." in his casual tone. Once he's finished, the class jumps up, rushing over to the list to look it over. Thomas and Alexander are front and center, both screaming out.

"I'm third in class?" Jefferson cries, running his fingers through his hair and making a far too overly dramatic pose of defeat.

"I'm second," Alexander laughs, but it sounds rather fake, "At least I beat you."

"By a hundredth of a percent, Hamilton, you aren't that great." he replies with an eyeroll.

"It's still more than you and I bet that kills you, that's all I need to know." Alexander hisses back.

"You wouldn't have the better grade if you weren't such a kiss ass- you have G behind you, without him you're nothing."

"You don't know what you're talking about, honestly, jealousy is a bad color-"

The rest of the class is chatting among themelves, trying to find out who's name is at the top of the list. The bell rings in the midst of it, and the class trickles out. John, Hecules, and Lafayette look over to me, "Are you coming?" they ask.

"I'll be right there!" I call, pointing at the grade sheet, "I just want to check my grade real quick."

They leave with the rest of the class, and it's just Thomas, Alexander, and I. Thomas and Alexander rush to G's desk, their voices mixing together in all their yelling and fits of anger. They sound more upset than when they're arguing with each other.

"Who has the highest grade!?" they both shout together.

At the same time G answers, my body freezes as I see my student ID number on the list. I check the number three times before I can actually register it, "Lyra."

The air gets chilly, or at least it feels like it, the two boys turn from Mr. G, their eyes on me.

"You? Seriously?" Thomas' words sound like poison in his mouth.

"She hardly talks!" Alexander exclaims, sounding horrified.

Mr. G shrugs, "It's not all about talking, boys. Lyra works hard. Her quiz scores are great, she's good at writing, she comes in for study sessions often..." he lists off each thing, not once looking up from the paperwork on his desk. He sounds a little proud, which makes my heart fill with joy and pound at the same time.

"Whatever." Alexander groans, heading out of the classroom "I'll beat her next time."

"Don't get cocky." Jefferson whispers, strutting past me with a subtle shoulder bump.

All the blood must be drained from my face by the time that they're gone, I numbly walk to my backpack, carefully collecting my stuff. Normally, I'd be excited, but all I can feel is horror and guilt. Those two work so hard, how can I be the one at the top...?

"Lyra." I jump when I hear my name, quickly turning my head toward G. He seems to notice my lack of color, he speaks gently, "You're in that spot for a reason, alright? Don't let the founding idiots scare you off."

I hesitate before nodding, "Yeah, of course- and thank you, so much, I wouldn't be in the spot if I didn't have your help." I say with a shaky smile, I genuinely do appreciate him, he's always so patient with me, "I'm going to go talk to them, though, try and apologize."

"You shouldn't," he warns, "Those two have enough of an ego."

"I want to." I assure, slinging my bag over my shoulder, "Bye, Mr. G, I'll see you tomorrow."

I step out of the classroom, Lafayette, Hercules, and John waiting outside in the hall for me. I smile at them, and John rushes over, grabbing my shoulders, "Is it true?" he asks quickly.

"Is what...?" I ask, tilting my head.

"Are you the one at the top of the list?"

"Oh, yeah-"

Hercules booms with laughter, slapping me on the back, "Good job, kid, those two could use a blow. Maybe now they won't think they're so great."

Lafayette snorts, "I doubt it."

"Guys-" the three boys stop, looking to me, "I feel really bad about this, I'm going to go find them and apologize for the inconvience."

Hercules groans, "You're ruining the moment with this kindness thing, you're at the top, we should celebrate."

Lafayette nods with a huge smile, "We are going to a, how you say, Pizza Factory- I am excited to try American pizza."

"I would totally join you guys, and you'll have to tell me all about it, but I really have to do this."

Lafayette and Hercules sigh deeply, but John gives me a reassuring smile, "Alright, we understand. Good luck, we'll see you after school. You're still coming with us, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." I pull out my wallet, handing them a ten dollar bill, "Do me a favor and get me a drink?"

"Of course. Bye, Lyra!" John takes the bill, turning away with the boys while waving.

I feel my heart warm up watching them go, it erases some of the dread I have at the thought of approaching Alexander and Jefferson.


	2. The Apology of 1800

**AN: I'm back with more trash guys. ('This story still lacks a plot') I'm getting there, I promise!**

 **Warnings: Alexander being an asshole, discussion of sexuality and self hate, platonic sexy stuff mentioned, abuse mentions, drug and alcohol use (underage)**

2\. The Apology of 1800

I have to admit, I'm feeling kind of lost when the boys are out of the hall. The room suddenly feels all too long when you're the only one in it. I stand there for a while, lingering outside G's class in attempt to prepare myself mentally for confronting Alexander and Jefferson. Both of them intimidate me far too much, filling my mind with anxieties that might even be a little bit ridiculous. Alexander's loud and reckless, he wouldn't hesitate to yell at me in front of a crowd which gives me shivers just to think about- there's nothing worse than being yelled at. Jefferson, while a little more subtle and sneaky in his actions, will also rip me to shreds if I don't choose my words right. My mind is left going a million miles a minute, considering every awful way this could go, stressing me out all the more. Why did I decide to do this? I should just run to the parking lot, maybe the boys haven't left yet-

"Lyra? Hey!" a sweet voice interrupts my thoughts, and I turn quickly on my heels to meet eyes with the speaker. Despite my own freaking out, I can't help but grin when I see Philip walking toward me in the hall, holding hands with his girlfriend (Emerson, is it? I've never met her, but I believe that's what Philip told me when he spoke about her in the English class I TA for). There's no other word more fitting for Philip than adorable. He's a short kid, though he still beats his girlfriend by a few inches, with loads of curly, black hair that falls all around of his face- which is covered in more freckles than can possibly be counted. He's always grinning, I've never seen the smile taken off the kid's face. And the strangest part of it all, he's Alexander's little brother.

"Hi, Philip, and um-" I look to the girl, still not certain of her name. I'd rather just have her tell me herself and avoid any awkwardness that could possibly come out of getting it wrong.

"Emerson." the girl replies gently, her voice sounds even more honey-filled than Philip's- if that's even possible. She's incredibly small, enough so to make the ever short Philip appear tall. Her hair falls just past her chest, a lovely dark brown with a bit of natural curl to it. Her eyes match the color, big and almond shaped.

"Lyra." I answer, offering her a smile.

She returns the smile, before her face falls, "Are you alone?" Emerson asks, sounding a bit worried, "You can always come join us for lunch, we'd love to have you."

My heart is filled with warmth- she's just met me and she's already being so nice, but I shake my head, "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. Actually, I'm looking for Philip's brother." the anxiety starts to come back when I mention it, "Any idea where I can find him?"

Philip's eyes get wide and hopeful, "Are you two finally making friends? I told you, all it would take is a little talking and-"

"Um, no." I interrupt him softly, rubbing my arm uncomfortably, "It's not like that. I just need to talk to him."

I'm a little pained by Philip's slightly dropping features due to my words, Emerson takes the initiative calmly, "Alexander always spends his time in the library." she informs me, "We'll take you to him."

"You don't need to-" I start.

"There's no reason why you should have to walk alone." she says, pulling Philip gently along as the two walk out of the hallway with me.

The campus is mostly empty by now, a majority of the students have already left to either walk or drive to go get 's a few groups scattered about the campus, and Philip and Emerson smile and greet all of them. Philip's really popular for his age, almost everyone knows him. He's a cheerleader, alongside doing gymnastics and theatre, the kid is non-stop. The opposite of Alexander- well not necessarily, Alexander is popular- especially with the girls at our school, he just chooses not to acknowledge it. And he's definitely a hard worker. Actually, thinking about it, maybe the two aren't so different.

Emerson, I notice, seems to rely on Philip to boost her cheer. She's not necessarily dependent, but it's obvious that having someone she's comfortable with helps a ton in allowing her to be her true self. It's nice, how confident she seems to be with Philip by her side. And the way they look at each other. They seem like a disney movie in front of my eyes.

"Lyra?" I blink out of my thoughts, only now realizing that we've made it in front of the library. Philip is tilting his head, looking at me with a bit of concern, "Are you alright?"

"You seem a little out of it." Emerson finishes for him, her hand squeezes his once as they both stare at me, awaiting my answer.

I swallow thickly, once again becoming aware of how nervous I am. What if my apologizing just makes things worse? "I'm fine." I reply anyway, "Thank you guys for walking with me, I can take it from here."

I push the metal, green doors to the library open, my hands shaking violently. Philip and Emerson follow in behind, but they take a separate path, walking over to the section of bean bag chairs in the library. The plop onto two of them and lie beside each other, Emerson's hand moving on over to play with Philip's hair. I smile to myself slightly, trying to ignore my racing pulse. The warmth of the building doesn't override the chill of my bones.

I search the tables, stopping when my eyes land on Alexander. He's got his head buried in a book (I think it's the one Mr. G mentioned to us yesterday), along with a stack of books next to him. There's supposed to be a limit on how many books we check out, but I'm fairly certain the librarians make an exception for Alexander. Luckily, he's too focused on reading and taking quick notes that he doesn't notice me approaching with shaky steps and shaky breaths. I try to be casual, sitting down across from him.

Alexander doesn't look up, leading me to wonder if he did notice me walking up and just elected to ignore me. I want to say something, start up a conversation. But my throat feels closed shut, and all I can do is open and close my mouth a bunch of times, feeling like an idiot. The table is shaking slightly- or is it me that's shaking?

"Are you going to say something or just sit there?" Alexander asks, still not making any form of eye contact. His voice sounds completely disinterested.

"I-" I start, but once again find myself at a loss for words.

"Of course you aren't. You don't know how to say anything of value."

Those words sting, I feel myself visibly flinch. I try to focus on collecting my thoughts and arranging my apology, nervously picking at my fingernails. Alexander still doesn't look up, writing notes at the same time.

"If you aren't going to say anything, you can go."

"I-I-" I take a breath, "I wanted to apologize- for what happened- I-I think you deserve the higher grade-"

"I don't need your pity." His voice is cold, though there's also a hint of something else that I can't make out through the twist in my chest, "And this apology is the exact reason why you shouldn't have the higher grade. You can't even take something so great with pride-"

My eyes are filling with tears, fingers clutched tightly to my shirt to keep myself from actually crying. He's not even saying too horrible of things and yet I feel like running and hiding. He seems like he's only going to continue, until a gentle, female voice beats him, "Am I interrupting something?"

I blink away what I can of my tears, though the worry in the girl's expression tells me it doesn't do much good. I recognize her, Hollie from APUSH. She's short, though taller than Emerson; with long, bleach blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She's naturally pretty, no makeup needed. I don't know much about her, she's incredibly quiet, especially in APUSH- I'm not sure I've ever heard her speak until now as I come to think about it.

"I was just leaving." I tell her quickly, standing up wearily. The girl looks like she wants to add something, but I don't give her time to. I hear Alexander say something along the lines of 'She's being overly dramatic' to explain to Hollie. And he's right, I am, but that doesn't stop me from doing so. I quickly walk toward the library doors, hugging myself tightly and feeling like a complete idiot. I see vaguely out of the corner of my eye Philip and Emerson getting up, noticing me and I try to quicken my pace further.

"Lyra!" Philip calls, and one of the librarian turns, shushing him. He smiles apologetically, getting up with Emerson and crossing the room to me before I can get out, "Are you alright?"

Emerson digs in her purse before pulling out a tissue from her bag, holding it out to me. I take it graciously, dabbing at my eyes. At least now I can try to prevent anyone else from seeing me so distraught. "Did Alexander say something to you?" she asked, "I'm sure he didn't mean it-"

"If he did, let us know," Philip adds, "I can say something. I know he does some stupid things, he doesn't always think..."

I shake my head quickly, not wanting things to get worse than they already are. Alexander already seemed to hate me, I'm sure that wouldn't lessen with Philip saying something. "I'm fine, I think I just need some air." I don't let them get many more words of concern out before I turn and push out of the library, rushing away.

My vision is blurry as I rush out, and I don't get far before before slamming directly into someone, bouncing back, "I-I'm sorry-" I stutter, glancing up.

I'm met with a smirk that leaves a sinking feeling in my stomach, "Well, if it isn't the grade A student." Jefferson. I'd wanted to apologize to he and Alexander, but I was hoping for a small break in between speaking to them, especially after how disastrous my meeting with Alexander had gone.

I wipe at my eyes, feeling my cheeks a little heated with embarrassment. I guess the tissues hadn't worked as well as hoped. "You're also an A student, Thomas." I remind him, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"But not the A." he shoots back, he smiles at me and something about it sends shivers down my spine, "What are you doing running out of the library in tears? And where's the idiotic trio you spend your time with?"

I feel my fists clench slightly, I've never been an aggressive person, but something about Jefferson never fails to get under my skin. Still, I keep my voice calm, though it's still a little hoarse from the tears, "You don't even care, you just want to tease me about it, so I'd rather just not answer."

"How quick witted-"

"Jefferson, shut up." a girl's voice says and before I know it, she's stading beside me. Another APUSH kid, Abella. She's incredibly smart, enough so that Thomas and Alexander respect her for her answers. She's long, curled, naturally ginger hair and pretty hazel eyes. She looks at me with a helpful smile, "Is he bothering you? He's good at doing that."

Jefferson groans, crossing his arms, "Abella, you're no fun-"

"Ah-ah-ah, I was talking to her." she chides him. I see him crack a smile. Abella and Thomas are good friends, much to Lafayette's discontent. Lafayette has had a huge crush on Abella since he arrived, and he has this theory that Thomas is madly in love with her. I'd always thought he was just a little paranoid but the way Thomas looks at her, I start to think Lafayette's not that far off.

"He's fine," I assure gently, Thomas's smile turning into a smirk at my words, "I bumped into him and I needed to speak to him anyway, so.."

She grins, "Great, I was just meeting up with him to go to the drama classroom, you can join us." she says.

I feel my nerves start up. Despite Lafayette, Hercules, and John all being big, active participants in the drama program, I tend to avoid it as much as I can. Everyone in the program is loud and outgoing, which completely intimidates me. They're all nice, don't get me wrong, but the environment overwhelms my introverted nature. Still, I can't say no to Abella's offering of kindness. And I guess going with them is better than hiding off alone for the rest of the period feeling bad about myself.

"Alright." I agree gently.

She links her arm with mine, taking me by a bit of surprise, as she leads me off in the direction of the theatre. Jefferson follows casually alongside us, hands deep in the pockets of his obnoxiously long, purple coat. The whole way there the two chat happily among themselves, joking around and occasionally looking to me for an opinion- which I respond to by nodding or shaking my head, far too shy to use words in fear of sounding dumb.

Once we arrive into the drama room, the entire room seems to turn, grinning at Jefferson and Abella, and waving before turning back to their own lively conversations. Everyone speaks with their hands, I notice, acting stories out as if they're on stage. The whole thing is, as predicted, completely overwhelming. I'm a little more soothed when Abella keeps her hold on my arm, as she and Jefferson lead me over to the back corner next to the open door that leads to the hall. Already sitting in the area is James Madison.

James Madison is, quite literally, the coolest kid in school. His family is extremely wealthy, he's captain of the varsity football team, and everyone knows him. Just being in his proximity leaves you feeling as if you're in the presence of a celebrity. He doesn't even say anything when we walk up, just nods in our general direction. Effortless.

"James, this is Lyra." Abella introduces, leaning against the table.

James glances up at me and I feel like melting. "Hey." he says.

I can feel myself shaking a little, and I try to keep myself collected as I speak, "Nice to meet you." When he cracks a small smile, I feel my heart skip a beat.

"Jefferson!" A voice calls, rushing through the open door beside us, and breaking me out of my Madison's coolness induced trance. A tall, thin girl with short hair that sticks up and a pair of thick, black glasses over light blue eyes owns the voice. She looks panicked, holding up two different fabrics. "Which of these looks best?" she asks, sounding frazzled.

Jefferson points to one, "Obviously that one, it's cheap and easy to move around in." he says easily.

She nods, filling with relief quickly and smiling, "Of course, thank you!" I recognize her, now, she's in APUSH, too. She doesn't really speak in class, but I know G loves her essays. Upon noticing me, she seems to lose her enthusiasm and quiet down. I feel a little guilty.

"Marzia!" Abella cries in hapiness, throwing her arms around the other girl, "This is Lyra, from our class."

Marzia, that's her name, she looks at to me with a nervous smile, "Hi."

"Hello." I say with equal amounts of nerves.

"This conversation isn't going to get anywhere fast," Jefferson comments, laughing, "Lyra, what is it you wanted to tell me?"

I look to him, tilting my head before I remember the apology, "Oh!" I exclaim, "Right. I wanted to apologize to you, for my grade, I know that you and Alexander deserve the higher grade."

Abella's eyes widen, "No way, you have the highest grade?" she gasps, "Actually, that's not too surprising."

Jefferson shoots her a look before turning back to me, "I agree I deserve a higher grade, Alexander is fine where he is. Second best suits him."

"Thomas, that's rude." Marzia scholds, "Alexander works just as hard as you."

He shrugs, uncaring, "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I accept your apology, it's not a big deal. I just want you to know it's not going to stay that way forever."

Abella whacks him on the shoulder, "Don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about." She grabs my wrists excitedly, "You know what? You should totally come to my party this weekend. I know it's a little out of the blue, but the whole drama department is invited, and you're practically a member if you're friends with Lafayette and them."

I'm taken aback, for sure, but a smile comes to my face at how she names Lafayette- he's going to freak out when I tell him. "Well, I'm not really one for parties.." I admit gently, and upon seeing her face fall I quickly add, "But I guess if the boys are going, what harm could be done?"

She grins, "Awesome! They already have the details, so you wont need to worry about the information."

I nod, "Thank you."

She nods back, turning away from me to start up a conversation with Jefferson. I stay there for the rest of lunch, actually enjoying talking and joking around with the little group.

\- break line -

A few hours after school it's John and I sitting on alone on the couch in Hercules' basement. I'm resting against him, his legs wrapped slightly around me. He's trying out a new braid in my hair, using a reference from his phone. Every once in a while having to pull his hands back so he can finish taking a drag of his cigarette. As he does so, I nurse my third or fourth beer, humming against the bottle.

"Lafayette and Hercules haven't come down yet." He notes, pulling a strand of my hair from the front to the back.

I nod, taking a little bit longer sip of my drink, "They're probably fooling around."

It's not uncommon for the two to experiment with each other, both Lafayette and Hercules have been questioning their sexual orientations, especially since Lafayette started living with Herc as part of the foregin exchange program. I have no problem with it, it's smart really, the way they choose to do it with someone they trust and feel comfortable with, rather than a stranger.

"Mm." John agrees.

I look back at him and he makes a slight noise of complaint in worry my hair is going to get messed up. His eyes meet mine and he smiles slightly, looking a little nervous as he quickly moves in to put his lips against mine. I'm a little surprised, but I return the gesture. John's lips always feel soft, but they shake a bit- he's always worried, never quite sure of himself.

After a moment, he pulls away, looking apologetic. I take his hand gently, "Don't feel anything, huh?" I ask.

He nods, "I'm really trying to.." he tells me.

I constantly have to assure John that I'm fine with the fact that he's gay. His family is extremely homophobic and John's absorbed a lot of it into himself. He's not outwardly hateful, in fact, none of the group is remotely straight and he's perfectly fine with it- himself, however, he's not fine with. He's constantly trying to feel something for a girl, he does his best practicing with me, but I've told him a million times that it won't change anything and that's okay.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug, "It's okay, John, you're fine."

He burries his face against my hair, nodding slightly. "How was your day?" he asks softly, trying to change the subject, "Did the apology go okay?"

"Yeah, we're dying to know!" Hercules calls, and both John and I jump, squeaking.

Lafayette grins, his hair tossed all which ways, "It's just us, you two." he teases.

"How was the sex?" I joke right back, sticking out my tongue.

Hercules smirks, "You really dying to know?" he then becomes a bit more serious, "I don't want to make John uncomfortable."

Of the three of us, Hercules is the least educated on lgbtq+ things, however, he's extremely considerate. It took a long time for Hercules to really understand John's demisexuality, and he's still learning, but he's incredibly respectful.

John smiles, looking thankful, "I'm fine hearing about sex, Hercules." he explains, "I just am not willing to engage in it myself."

"Unless you meet someone you really trust, right? Other than that you're repulsed?" Hercules asks, looking genuinely interested.

John nods, "I need an emotional connection to have sex." he confirms.

Hercules grins, "Well, I'll be sure to give you all the dirty details, then." he's back to joking, "But first, I want to hear what happened at lunch, Lyra."

I nod, explaining the earlier events thoroughly. It's a rule in our group to be as detailed as you can with events- every moment counts.

Hercules looks pissed by the end of my story, "Hamilton said that to you?" he growls, "I'll show that kid-"

I shake my head, "Let him be, Herc." I say gently.

Hercules grumbles, but continues more calmly, "I can't believe Hollie is getting tutored by that guy. She's way too smart to need him in the first place and, obviously, he can't be trusted to play nice."

"I'm sure he's just in a bad mood today." John assures Hercules, "I bet he'll apologize."

Lafayette rolls his eyes, "You are far too optomistic, John." he says, "But did Abella really mention me?"

I smile, nodding, "Yep! Can you bee-lieve it?" I joke. 'Abella' is the french word for bee, the boys all just groan at my lame joke.

John smiles, "I'm glad you're attending the party with us."

"Yeah, me too." And I do admit a bit of excitement, after the surprising amount of fun I had earlier, I was a bit curious.

John yawns, leaning back, "Herc, I'm staying the night." he says. He always stays with Hercules if he can, trying to avoid his abusive, horrible excuse for a father.

"Of course." Hercules shrugs, looking at me, "You too, Lyra?"

I nod, "Hell yeah." I answer, drinking down what's left of my beer.

"Well, if it's going to be a slumber party, I'll go get some more drinks." Hercules says, getting up.

Meanwhile, Lafayette comes to nestle on the couch with John and I, throwing an arm around both of us. I put my legs on his lap, resting my head back onto John. I feel content, closing my eyes.


	3. A Winter's Party

**A/N: Welcome back to my trash. Please read the warnings and be safe! 3 A lot of French is spoken, but translations are written at the end. Also, apologies for taking so long.**

 **Songs of Inspiration:**

 **Pity Party & Mad Hatter - Marina and the Diamonds**

 **Fever - The Black Keys**

 **Warnings: Underaged drinking, partying, and drug use; molestation; cursing; homophobic slurs; casual sexy stuff.**

3\. A Winter's Party

As I walk down the stairs to Hercules' basement, I can hear loud music already blasting. Hercules calls this the 'pre-party', essentially, we start drinking, dancing, and having fun before the real party while we get ready so by the time we're there we know we're ready to party. Usually, I only go to the pre-party, than leave when the others are heading to the actual party. I've been to a few parties here and there, but usually, it's with people who are strangers and I don't have to worry about them remembering me the next day.

Hercules' basement is huge, packed with pretty much anything a basement could need. He has a huge TV atop a long TV stand, centered in front of the old sofa he's had for years that has seen our darkest times. There's a liquor cabinet in the corner- which Hercules parents try and pretend we don't get into to. The spare bed, which is really just a mattress with a few blankets thrown over it, lies beside the liquor cabinet. Across the room, Hercules has tons of boxes that he never unpacked when he moved here in fourth grade. Since then, he's just gotten more boxes as he's gotten more stuff.

When I get down the last step, I see Lafayette holding up multiple different items of clothing, trying to figure out what's the best. Hercules looks completely bored with the whole thing, more focused on peeling at the wrapper around his beer bottle while he sits, spread out on the couch. John is making noises of distress as Lafayette keeps pulling in various directions while John is standing on a box, trying to fit Lafayette's abundant hair within the restraint of a ponytail. Lafayette notices me and his face brightens, "Ah, finally! Dieu merci, someone with a fashion sense!" he exclaims.

"Hey!" John huffs, obviously offended.

"John, I know it is mostly your pour excuse for a father's fault, but most days your dress is... how do you say it in America-" Lafayette questions.

"'Awful'." Hercules adds in with a laugh.

"John, you look great today." I cut in, smiling over at John. He returns the smile, and I'm happy to see how confident he looks. He really does look nice, he's wearing a pair of nice, new, dark blue jeans, a dark red sweater over top of a blue flannel, and over that a gray blazer. He's done his hair in a nice bun.

"Yes, John, you do look nice." Lafayette assures him, then looks to me, "Now, can we please help me also appear pleasant?"

I laugh and nod, plopping down next to Hercules on the couch. Hercules throws an arm around me, handing me a beer with his free hand after popping off the cap with his teeth. I take a long sip as Lafayette holds up the clothes for display. There's one with a sweater and a worn out pair of jeans that I immediately reject.

"What is wrong with the sweater?" he asks with a frown.

"It looks lazy," Hercules says with a shrug, which is a little bit ironic considering he's chosen a shirt, jeans, and a jacket to wear, "Abella is a girl with taste, she's not gonna go for it."

Lafayette rolls his eyes, "Who are you trying to impress?"

"No one, and let me tell you, it's the good life, my man." Hercules grins.

"Not even Hollie?" John asks nonchalantly.

Hercules grumbles, leading the rest of us into laughter. I smile at Lafayette once I'm done laughing, "Show the next outfit."

He holds up another outfit, much better than the last, a gray blazer over a white shirt with black jeans.

"It's nice," I say gently, "But-"

"But?" he groans.

"It's not very you. You want to dress up, sure, but you also want to be yourself." I explain.

"Any other 'rules' you or Hercules would like to specify?" he asks.

Hercules and I exchange a look, "Nope." we say in unison, taking long sips of our beers.

John nudges Lafayette, finally done with pulling his hair back, "Show her the best one." he urges, stepping down off the box and moving it aside. "Lyra, get over here so I can do your hair, then you can take off that awful outfit."

I stand up from the couch, John's comment reminding me that I'm wearing a sweatshirt and baggy jeans- the only outfit I can manage to get out of the house with, without giving my dad a heart attack. He's always been so strict. I've learned to just wear an outfit and change when I get to wherever I'm going. I sit down on the floor, John kneeling down to start parting my hair.

Lafayette holds up the last outfit he has, and I make a small gasp of amazement. It's a gorgeous, long brown coat and a gray vest overtop a dark blue, button-up shirt, he has the same black jeans from the second outfit to match with it. "That one! That one!" I chant, clapping my hands.

"See?" John teases, "How's that for no sense of style."

Lafayette grins, "Alright, this one it is, then." he agrees, moving to strip down. Hercules whistles, to which Lafayette pleasantly responds by flipping him off.

While John continues on my hair, reach over and pull my bag to me, pouring out my make-up supplies on the floor. I open my compact mirror, working on applying some onto my face.

"Hey, Ly," John speaks softly from behind me, "Are you going to be alright at this party?"

I smile to myself, only John would ever think to ask. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm actually kind of excited."

"I'm glad, you're going to have so much fun." he assures me.

"Ceci est incroyable! Il semble encore mieux sur! Pouvez-vous croire que je suis en train de la fille de mes reves ce soir!" Lafayette exclaims, showing off his outfit. I catch a bit of his French and he's correct, the outfit does look better on. He's grinning, and I swear that this is the happiest I've seen him since he came to America. It bring a smile to the rest of our faces too. He fiddles for a moment, sorting through multiple pairs of glasses, he settles for the thick, dark brown ones and looks to me questioningly.

"Magnifique." I agree with shaky pronunciation.

Lafayette laughs, looking pleased, "Ma petit Lyra! Tu apprends!" he rushes over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

"Careful." John mutters, still working on my hair.

"Juste un peu." I reply, a little embarrassed as I use my fingers to signal 'a little'.

"Je ai appris beaucoup plus. Essayex de vivre avec lui." Hercules adds in, walking over to join the group.

"English, please." John begs softly, we all give him apologetic looks- well, Hercules and Lafayette do, I try to stay still as John finishes up my hair. "There." he says, sounding satisfied with his work.

I lift up my mirror, checking out my hairstyle, "John, you never cease to amaze me." I praise, staring in awe at the magnificent crown braid John has created out of my dark brown hair.

"Thank you." he replies, sounding thrilled.

He doesn't often get the adoring responses toward his talent. His father calls hairstyling a 'faggot job', I flinch even just thinking about it, my stomach churning. I'm so sickened by it. How can a parent say those things to their own child- especially to someone like John, who is nothing but kind? I've never had the best relationship with my father, but God, I've suffered nothing in comparison.

Hercules once suggested doing something about it, on a night where John was forced to go home, leaving only Hercules and I behind. It was years ago, before we'd even first met Lafayette through a blogging site. Hercules suggested killing John's father, quick and easy in the middle of the night, he went through the whole plan down to the last detail. I'd realized that this wasn't the first time he'd thought of this, and I realized it wasn't my first time either. We might have even done it- a little more alcohol and there could have been no turning back.

But then I remembered that John is so unbelievably caring, that he would miss his father and blame himself. And even worse- if Hercules, myself, or both of us had landed ourselves in jail, John would have been all alone. And that would be a worse punishment in his eyes. So we decided against it. It's not the last time we brought it up, though, and most certainly not the last time I thought about it.

A sudden knock on my head jars me out of my thoughts, and I jump a little outwardly. The boys are all frowning, Hercules is holding his hand in a fist toward my face- he must have been the one knocking on my forehead. "Earth to Lyra, you in there?" he asks.

I blink a few times, trying to realign my thoughts, "Y-yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I was just thinking." I apologize, "I-I should- I should get changed." I mutter quickly as I stand, doing my best to change the subject. It's not that I'm really ashamed of my thoughts, but the topic will only dampen the mood and definitely upset John, that's the last thing I want right now.

I stand up, quickly pulling off my sweatshirt and jeans, grabbing the real outfit I brought. I change quickly but carefully, not wanting to mess up my make up, or even worse, John's hard work. Once I'm done, I pat myself down and turn to the boys, who still look a little concerned- but it's wiped away once they get a good look at me. A dark red, high waisted skirt, with a white, bralette crop top, and a jean jacket over top, with black tights and brown, ankle boots. Over it all, I wear the fuzzy cream scarf that John got me for Christmas last year.

John grins at me, "You look amazing!" he exclaims, his bun flopping along with his head movements.

"Il suffit de couper le souffle!" Lafayette cheers, obviously pleased. John shoots him a look and he gives an apologetic smile, "My apologies, you look great."

Hercules doesn't just settle for a nice comment, instead a smirk comes to his face, "Who are you trying to impress?"

I can feel my cheeks getting hot, I smooth down my skirt to avoid making eye contact with the boys, "Everyone." I mumble.

And it's true. Despite being friends with three of the most outgoing people out there, I'd never really taken the steps to branch out myself. The least I could hope for is to make a good impression- well, the best impression I can when I become inevitably wasted.

I once again avoid the subject at hand, looking to Hercules, "Hey, I know you're not dressing up too fancy today, but you should at least where one of your nice bandanas.

In fifth grade, Hercules developed this obsession with bandanas, as per result of his 'motorcycle aesthetic' fascination. Since then, they've been Hercules trademark item- just like John with sweaters, Lafayette's abundant pairs of glasses, and my ever growing scarf collection. Hercules has at least one hundred bandanas, John tried to count once but lost interest after about fifty-seven. It's gotten to the point where we've sorted them for occasions, he has ones for holidays, everyday, parties.

"I was getting to that." Hercules assures me, "I know just the one."

John and Lafayette start guessing among themselves as Hercules crosses the long basement, looking in his 'special occasion' labeled box of bandanas.

"The sparkly one?"

"The camouflage one?"

"The purposely ripped one?"

"You're all wrong." Hercules laughs lightly, pulling out one. It takes me a moment to realize what it is, I haven't seen it in so long. It's brightly colored- tye dyed- the one that John and I made for him in sixth- or was it seventh- grade.

John kind of makes a noise that resembles choked laughter, "Really? That one?"

"It's my favorite." He replies with a shrug.

"I'm pretty sure Lyra broke the blue bottle when we were making that." John replies. And it's true, there's this out of place, big blue stain on the headband from the incident.

"I did." I admit, giggling, "But John told me it gave the bandana character."

"I am certain 'character' means, as Hercules says, 'awful'." Lafayette tells me, grinning ear to ear.

John nods slightly, trying to calm his laughter, he looks to me, "Do you still have that giant blue spot on your floor?"

"Covered up with a carpet so my dad can't see it," I nod, "Yep."

John only laughs harder, wiping at his eyes, "Yeah, Herc, I think that's the perfect bandana."

"And I hate to ruin the moment," Lafayette says, "But we should be on our way if we are to get to the party at a reasonable hour."

Hercules nods, tying the bandana to his head and grabbing his keys off the TV stand, "Let's go."

Line break -

When we arrive at Abella's house, the party is already in full swing, as evident by the scattered, empty red solo cups and beer bottles, and the two people who are basically fucking on the lawn. Hercules whistles at the two, both of them shooting a thumbs up. John moves a little closer to me, grabbing my arm. I'm not sure if he's worried I feel uncomfortable or he is uncomfortable.

Lafayette gets ahead of us, knocking on the door. He's brushing himself off and messing a little with his hair (before John smacks his hand away). He practices looking casual, wanting to impress Abella. It's cute to watch- a little embarrassing, but mostly cute.

Abella opens the door, and even though Lafayette is the only one head over heels for her, I think we're all a little taken aback by how good she looks- John even gasps a little. Her long, red hair falls in thick, long curls perfectly around her face. She has a maroon colored, oversized sweater that's slightly tucked into her black, button up skirt. She wears black tights and a pair of Toms. She looks fantastic. She smiles brightly, pulling Lafayette into a hug.

"Lafayette, you came! You look great!" she exclaims, kissing his cheek.

He turns a slight shade of red, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck once he reluctantly pulls away from the hug, "Thank you, mon minou."

I hear Hercules making a noise, biting back a laugh at Lafayette's words. 'Mon minou' translates to 'my kitty', a term usually reserved for the bedroom.

Abella laughs a little too much, making me wonder if she's got a huge crush or she's already drunk- maybe both. "Oh Lafayette, one day I'll figure out what you're saying." she says, turning to open the door wider for us.

Hercules nudges Lafayette, "Maybe you could just show her." he murmurs.

Lafayette, John, and I all kick him disapprovingly as we follow Abella in. Hercules booms with laughter, "Oh, come on, it's just a joke!"

John leans closer to me, "Did you see her hair? What I'd do to try my hand at styling that." He whispers, voice filled with awe.

I smile at him, "You should ask her." I encourage gently.

He shakes his head, "No way." he says simply, "She's way out of my league."

It's true that Abella would be considered highly ranking on the popularity scale- if you believe such a thing exists. It's not surprising, either, considering how kind, funny, and inclusive she is- almost everyone knows he in someway, either through ASB or the drama department. I don't think John necessarily realizes how popular he is, though, especially within the drama department.

"I think you should give it a try." I insist, but my voice is drowned by the loud music that is blasting in Abella's house.

Beside the door, she has a selection of drinks, pouring each of us what we ask for. As I'm handed my solo cup filled with a mixture of coconut vodka and fruit juice, I take a look around the house. It's hard to tell what the house really look like in the dim lighting. A group of people are stripped out of various articles of clothing, happily engaging in a game of beer pong on the coffee table. Another girl is taking jello shots off of- is that Aaron Burr?- I don't allow myself to ponder on it for too long. The outside, where the music comes from, is even more lively. I hear people yelling from behind the screen door, and splashes that are not too far apart. Abella must have a pool, then. Thomas Jefferson is dancing, in socks, on top of the dining room table, shirt off and spinning above his head. Seeing everyone in this environment is a little bit overwhelming.

I notice Alexander, and my heart nearly stops, I'm still not anywhere near over the events of my apology just a few days prior. He doesn't seem particularly interested in the party around him, tucked in the corner, beside a piano. He's reading the AP US History textbook, writing little notes on post-its, though after a moment of staring I realize he's constantly glancing up for short periods of time. I follow his line of sight, and almost laugh when I see what has him so alert.

Philip and Emerson are across the room, leaning close to each other as they speak. They both have cans of soda in their hands, much to my hypocritical pleasure- sure, I'd started drinking young, but that didn't mean I was encouraging others to do it. They seemed to be the only two in the room in their own eyes, not noticing the chaos ensuing around them. I see that their hands that aren't holding drinks are laced together. Emerson looks adorable, her hair straightened so it reaches almost all the way down her back, she has a dark raspberry flannel tucked into a leather skirt that reaches just a little above her knees, and these cute black, buckled heels.

Alexander is only at this party to make sure Philip doesn't get into any trouble, that brings a smile to my face.

I feel John's hand leave my arm, making my attention leave Alexander and making me realize realizing how comforted I was by it. John has his hands in his pocket, wandering off from the group toward the hall of rooms. "John." I call after gently, he turns to look at me.

"What is it, Ly?" he asks, fidgeting a bit. I assume he's a little overwhelmed by the crowds, despite his love for partying, he's always had troubles coping within a large group.

"Please don't take anything, alright? If you don't know what it is." I feel a little guilty for asking him this, I know I'm not his mother- in fact, he's older than me by a few months. But he's struggled with substance abuse in the past and I only want to keep him safe.

His face softens a bit at my worry and he nods, though he doesn't look very sincere. He waits a moment to see if I'm going to say anything else, than turns back around when I don't, continuing down the hall.

Heading toward the same area is Marzia, she seems even more uncomfortable than John to be here. Her short hair is curled a bit, she's wearing a pair of dark, skinny jeans, the darker scale of red violet on her shirt, and a black, three-quarter sleeve blazer. I step forward a bit, "Marzia?"

She looks back at me like a deer in headlights, though relief falls over her face when she sees me, "Oh, hello Lyra." she says, voice soft.

"Can you do me a favor?" I ask, "I hate to bother you, but I noticed you were heading toward the back rooms and..-"

"What is it you need?" she replies kindly.

"John's heading the same direction, can you just- watch over him a bit for me? He'll know something's up if I do it."

"Of course."

"Thank you. I'll repay you-"

"It's no trouble." she assures me, setting a hand on my shoulder for a moment. She sounds so reassuring, her voice filled with compassion. Her hand leaves my shoulder too soon, and she sets back down the hall after John.

It's only then that I realize I am alone. Lafayette and Hercules are nowhere to be found. I trail toward the center of the room, my drink gone from my nervous sips before I know it. Luckily, there's a setup of a drinks nearby, and I proceed to pour myself the first thing I can get my hands on. My hands are a little shaky, I note while pouring. I down the drink- I've always been a nervous drinker. And before I know it, another ten drinks have been finished off by me.

"Lyra!" a voice- Philip's- exclaims while I'm in the process of getting my next drink.

I glance up, smiling lazily, "Philip, what's good?" I sound like an idiot.

"Are you good?" he asks, "You've been non-stop drinking for the past twenty minutes."

"Has it been that long..?" I murmur, shrugging and taking another long drink. "I'm fine, I know my tolerance."

Philip nods slowly, seeming a little hesitant before he's back to his happy self, "Can I ask a favor of you?"

"Yeah, sure." I reply, "What can I help you with?"

He grabs my shoulders, moving me, my drink sloshing over the sides a bit. He stops me at a certain point, "Alright, all I need you to do is stay right there, no moving."

I almost say 'kinky', but I keep it to myself, nodding at Philip in confirmation. He walks away from him and I watch him quietly, maybe if I wasn't on my eleventh drink, I'd be more concerned as to what he was doing, but I'm not. He's back by Emerson's side, smiling at her brightly. He whispers something in her ear, before dipping her, and I choke on my drink as he pulls her into a deep kiss.

I come to the realization that this is why I'm standing here, to block the view of this to Alexander. As soon as I make the connection, a rough hand is on my shoulder, moving me aside- Alexander. It's pretty obvious what had just gone down, Emerson is dark red and completely out of it, Philip is grinning from ear to ear.

"What is going on here, Philip?" Alexander asks, a frown on his face.

Philip laughs, throwing an arm around Emerson's shoulder, "Nothing." he claims.

Alexander doesn't buy it, he turns to me, "What is going on?" he repeats.

I hesitate, my mouth going dry as I recall the moments at the library. I want to tell the truth, but then I see Philip's pleading look in the corner of my eye, begging me not to tell. "Nothing." I answer, echoing Philip.

Alexander stares at me for a long moment, burning into my skin, but finally he seems to accept it and turns away to go back to his spot against the wall. He sits and picks up the history textbook, glancing at me for one moment that seems far too long until it's over and he's back to reading.

Philip runs over to me, pulling me into a tight hug. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" he repeats over and over, and I wonder how the short kid is able to lift me in all his excitement.

Emerson also approaches me, very quiet as she mumbles a "Thank you." as well. She still seems a little shaken by the whole thing. I smile at her, suddenly feeling much more confident in my decision to lie to Alexander.

"No problem." I respond, smiling.

I become suddenly aware of a presence beside me, jumping slightly. Beside me stands James Madison, looking a cool, calm, and collected as ever.

"Hey Mads!" Philip exclaims. Philip and Emerson turn from me, their attention focused on Madison- which I harbor no ill will about, for my attention is on him too. Something about Madison just grabs it- possibly how effortless he seems.

"Hello Philip, Emerson." he nods a greeting to them, fist bumping Philip, he smiles over at me- just slightly, "Hello, Lyra."

I'm completely shaken by it- not only is he recognizing my existence but he knows my name. I stumble over a simple, "Hey." and try to drink down my nerves.

"You've been doing great in football this season." Philip brings up, and just like that my eye contact with Madison is over and I can breathe again.

I don't pay too much attention to the conversation- not because I don't want to, but because I keep getting distracted when looking at Madison and my own drunkenness has got me a bit easily distracted. They're discussing football, I know that much. Emerson is enthusiastic as she speaks- she doesn't seem to know much about the sport but she goes to every game in support and that's more than I can say for myself. I do, however, know Madison is an excellent player and is no doubt receiving a full ride to a college for it.

Something I am fully aware of, however, is how often Madison seems to glance longingly at Philip; even when Philip isn't the one speaking. I'm not exactly sure what it means, but it does plague my curiosity.

After a while of chatting, something or someone else gets Philip's attention, and just like that Philip has dragged Emerson away happily. It's just Madison and I- I can feel my heart pounding. It's not like I'm in love with him- or anything close to that. If anything, I idolize him. For me, being in his presence is like being with a celebrity- nervous and worried that you're going to say something wrong- just wanting desperately to make a good impression.

"How are you doing this evening?" he asks me.

It seems to take forever before I register the question, "Oh-" I blurt, tumbling over my words, "It's been just fine- how about you?"

"Good." he responds with a shrug, I notice his gaze trailing toward the crowd. Once again, his eyes are on Philip.

And I blame the alcohol for how direct I am when I say, "Sorry for asking, but Philip- I notice you keep looking at him- is there a reason?"

It's quiet for a moment and I worry I said something wrong, I'm about to open my mouth to apologize for the rude question, but he's speaking before me, through laughter, "You mean you don't know? You're the first, I admit."

I'm even more confused now, my brow furrowing, "Is.. there a joke I'm missing?"

"Not really a joke," he chuckles, wiping at his eyes, "I'm gay, and I have something of a huge crush on Philip."

My eyes widen, suddenly it all makes sense to me, "Oh! I'm sorry, I had no idea-"

He holds out his hand, waving away my apology, "It's no trouble, I just thought everyone knew by now. I don't keep it a secret."

"Well, even if most people know, I'm still glad you told me.." I say softly, looking down at my drink. I'm reminded of when John came out to me, years ago- I'd been the first one John told.

Back then, I was insanely in love with John Laurens. We'd been friends for years, inseparable since birth, practically. I'd know him even before Hercules. He came to my house every day, after I explained to my dad John's horrid situation, and my dad then told John that he could always come stay with us, John had taken the offer. Most nights he just stayed with us, my mom- when she was alive- and I would go out with John and shop for new clothes. We'd even furnished a side of my room for him. So, needless to say, in spending every moment with him- I'd fallen head over heels for the boy. Well, at least I thought so.

My love for John, I know now, is something much deeper than that.

In middle school, John had spent the night, and something had compelled every bone in my body to kiss him. When I did though, it immediately felt wrong. It's not that I didn't want to kiss him, but I knew in that moment my love was nothing with romantic intent- not even a familial intent. It was in that same moment, that John blurted out to me that he was gay. He cried hard, and I sat silently for a moment, not in shock, but in heartbreak. I suddenly didn't care about my supposedly romantic feelings, I only wanted him to feel better. So I hugged him close and told him that it was alright, that he was alright, over and over. He'd thought he hurt me by confessing, but what he really did was make my love even deeper- our connection even stronger.

"Why?" Madison asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. His laughter is gone- he now sounds very surprised, I've shocked him. He's looking directly at me, I don't know if I've ever seen him break his coolness.

I smile softly, encouragingly, "Because you're willing to share a deep part of yourself with me…" I explain. I almost want to laugh at myself, inwardly, drunk me seems to think she's philosophical.

He seems to not think it's silly though, he looks rather touched. He sets a hand on my shoulder, "Thank you, Lyra. You're a good kid." he says, and I practically melt right there.

Line Break -

It's about two hours into the party when I trail outside. I walk along the edge of the wall, avoiding the largely encompassing waves that leave the pool as people jump into it from the roof. I see Hercules and smile in relief to find someone I know. I trail over, subtly reaching his side, hoping my excitement wasn't too evident.

"Hey Ly!" Hercules gets even louder and more enthusiastic when he's intoxicated. He grins at me big and wide, "Saw you with Mads, you must be mad excited."

I groan jokingly, "Ignoring the horrible joke- it was exciting." I agree, nodding, "He came out to me."

He booms with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes- apparently I'm just a comedic genius today. "You didn't know? Of course not, my poor kid, always out of the loop."

I frown, "Hercules you knew? How could you not tell me!" I whine.

His laughter dies, though he still grins, "Sorry, thought you knew- though now I realize you never do."

"I guess not." I agree with a shrug.

We continue to chatter, Hercules telling me a dramatic story about the hot tub sex he shared with Lafayette that eventually evolved into a few more people than originally planned. I am nodding, but my attentions lie elsewhere.

Across the yard, Hollie is speaking with someone- though she looks rather uncomfortable. Her long blonde hair is straightened, falling to her hips, she wears and over the shoulders, short, black, long sleeved dress, and a pair of black stilettos to match. The guy looks to be breathing down her neck, she's shrinking down in reaction. A sick feeling forms in my stomach.

When the guy reaches out to touch her, I'm done. Quickly, I grab onto Hercules arm like a child. He stops his story, glancing down at me with worry, he knows immediately something is up by my movement. I nod my head in the direction of Hollie. It takes Hercules a moment before he registers what I'm referencing.

He's quick, crossing the yard in seconds, throwing the guy aside effortlessly. It causes the attention in the yard to fall onto him. Hollie seems to shrink under the gazes, breaking into sobs. Hercules pulls a jacket over her shoulders, leading her away from the crowd and inside.

I watch after them worriedly, wondering if I should follow along, but I know that Hercules is best suited to handle the situation. Hercules is very maternal and always knows how to calm down a situation. I shift uncomfortably, getting up and heading back inside

Line Break -

I feel the most relaxed I've been all night, sitting by the wall and leaning against Lafayette. John sits behind me, stroking a hand through my hair. Hercules; back from taking care of Hollie for an hour or so; leans over across me to kiss Lafayette, which starts out gentle and develops into something much more passionate. I think I hear John laugh behind me- a little surprised at their forwardness in public. I knew Lafayette was open about his sexuality fluctuation, but I had no idea if Herc was doing his best to keep his own on the downlow- then I remember Hercules telling me about the orgy in the hot tub.

Lafayette turns to me, his face close. He looks to my lips, asking permission with his eyes. I nod, and kiss him back when his lips meet mine. Lafayette is the best kisser I know- he claims that all French men are good kissers- his contact comes with a lot of heat and passion, even if there isn't necessarily a passionate connection. But even if he has passion in the kiss, I notice his eyes still trailing away, looking over to Abella.

I pull away from him, looking to Herc who obviously noticed the same thing. Lafayette looks confused, "What is it? You two have ze look-"

"Just ignore them, Laf, hopefully they're drunk enough that they won't remember long enough to do anything about it." John says with a laugh, and Herc and I both give him fake looks of hurt.

"What we were thinking is we know who you really want to be kissing." Hercules explains, grinning from ear to ear.

Lafayette looks between Hercules and I, blushing. "I have no idea what you are talking about-"

Hercules and I just stare, frowning in obvious disbelief.

"Alright, perhaps I do know. However I do not wish to act on said feeling- Je vais faire un fou de moi-même." He rambles, glancing nervously at Abella as he speaks.

Abella seems exhausted, rushing around and attending to the needs of others. Jefferson is following her about, talking her ear off- though it looks as if he's doing it to be helpful, keep her from passing out.

Hercules leans over, whispering in Lafayette's ear. I frown slightly, looking between them. Lafayette looks nervous, but stands, moving toward Abella. I look at Hercules questioningly, he just winks and starts off in his own direction. John scoots out from behind me and I lean back against the wall, the two of us watching closely as events unfold.

Lafayette takes Abella's arm gently, spinning her around and pushing Jefferson out of the way gently. Jefferson looks a bit taken aback, his jaw falling to the floor when Lafayette dips Abella effortlessly and presses his lips to her. John and I both gasp, grabbing each other's arms in surprise at the action. The whole room seems to stop for a moment, eyes on them as if we're in the middle of a romantic comedy. I almost expect someone to clap.

Then Hercules does, wooing through hands cupped around his mouth. Lafayette finally ends the kiss and Abella looks completely breathless. He grins at her, "You look as if you need a break, mon minou." He tells her, "I think we can use a bit of a- how you say, remix." he then points to Hercules.

Hercules gives him a thumbs up and changes the song playing through the speakers to "Come On Eileen!". Abella still seems a little shocked, but she also relaxes her face brightening as Lafayette begins to dance with her. I feel a grin come onto my face, happiness swelling in my chest for them.

Other couples follow suit; Philip sweeps Emerson off her feet, a huge smile on his face as he sings along to the lyrics. Hercules moves from the speakers to take Hollie's hand gently, and she hesitantly follows as he leads her to the living room and now made dance floor. Marzia scampers over to John and I, nervously asking John to dance, he glances at me as if to ask if it's okay and I nod quickly, gesturing for him to go- and soon enough they've joined the others in dancing.

My heart feels warm, so thrilled to see them all having fun. My boys looking happy with no care in the world- it doesn't happen too often. I move closer to the wall, not wanting to interrupt the fun. Despite my happiness, I feel a bit of a pang in my chest, the familiar awareness of loneliness taking over me. I want to just be glad for them, but a selfish part of me is more concerned with being left behind by my best friends. I almost leave the room, already in the process of standing, but when I am fully straightened my face is only a centimeter away from Jefferson, who smiles down at me.

I am more than a little intimidated, but he looks a little sympathetic, "Lyra, what are you doing over here all by yourself?" he asks, and I wonder if he's teasing me.

I glance over at the dance floor, frowning slightly. The answer should be obvious, the two of us are against the wall, away from it all, for the same reasons.

"Well, do you want to dance?" he asks, and I'm a little surprised with how casual he is, holding out a hand to me.

I hesitate for a long moment, my eyes staring into his with an obvious lack of confidence.

He rolls his eyes, though only in a playful sense, "Come on, Lyra, I'm not going to bite you if you don't ask."

Normally, his comment would make me dark red, but my intoxication has me feeling bolder and I grab his hand, "Alright, and I'll let you know about the biting thing." I joke.

He laughs, and it's warm and genuine, pulling me into the crowd of dancing people. His hand entangled with mine, another on my hip, our bodies close as we move to the beat. I notice he glances at Abella, and I feel a twinge of guilt.

"I know you would rather be dancing with Abella." I apologize gently, "I'm sorry. But I am rooting against you, just a bit, considering my relations with Lafayette."

"You're this formal even when you're wasted?" Jefferson chuckles, "That's priceless. And don't worry, dancing with you is just fine."

"Are you flirting with me?" I ask, smiling slightly.

He spins me, pulling me close, our mouths almost brushing against each other, "Maybe." he smirks.

"Is it just going to be flirting all night or are we leading into something more?" I ask.

Jefferson keeps a hold on one of my hands, "Let's go." he replies simply, and normally I'd have an objection to the forwardness, but once again my not thinking straight gets the best of me and I let him lead me down the hall and to one of the empty rooms. Giving the minimalist and mature aesthetic of the room, I am fairly certain that it's Abella's parents room, I almost say something, but at this point I really don't care.

Jefferson sits on the bed, and I almost immediately begin stripping, leaving my skirt and stockings on as I move to crawl on top of him. Our mouths meet quick, and at first the kiss is passionate, his hand tangling in my hair. But something is being held back.

"Are you good with this?" I ask, feeling guilty for not asking before taking my top layers off, "We can stop."

He shakes his head, "No," he says quickly, "I want this." he pulls me back down for another kiss. His lips are softer this time, less nervous, but he pulls back after a moment.

Once again I try to help him through, "Are you sure you're alright? If you're worried about anyone knowing or something…-"

He pulls back from me completely, running a hand through his hair, "I… I'm sorry I can't. I-"

I move off of him, sitting next to him on the bed, "You don't have to worry about explaining yourself, I'm not upset or anything." I assure him.

"No-no… I need to get this off my chest." he says, his voice sounding uncharacteristically raw, "And if anyone is going to fucking understand.. it'll be little miss perfect- no offense."

"None taken…" my voice is soft, setting a hand over Jefferson's, "I'm here to listen."

"I… I just … I have never really feel sexual attraction.." he says, sounding on the verge of tears, "I know- I know that is so weird, I'm-I'm a dude- how do I not…?"

"So… you are asexual?" I ask, tilting my head.

"What? No- I'm not a plant, you don't need to make fun of me-"

I'm pained by the hurt tone, "No, no, hun, 'asexual' is just a term of sexual identity." I explain slowly, trying to help him understand, "All it means is you do not experience sexual attraction."

He raises an eyebrow, "That… that's a thing?" he asks, disbelieving.

I nod, "Yeah." I say gently, "There's different forms too- prefixes I should say. Graysexual- expriencre sexual attraction but very little and not very frequently. Demisexual, meaning it takes a connection to feel any form of sexual attraction. Asexual means no sexual attraction." I list them off one by one, and slowly to make sure he understands everything I say and can ask me questions if I wishes.

"I think I may be… the gray one…" he says slowly, "I've had sex once- with Madison awhile back- and I didn't hate it. I felt something with him, maybe.. just not romantically, does that make sense?" he explains.

I nod again, "I understand perfectly."

He's silent for a moment, before pulling me into a tight hug, "Thank you, Lyra. Don't tell anyone I said that, though, think I have a soft spot for you." and just like that he lets me go, returning to his silver tongue.

I smile brightly, "I'd never want that." I say teasingly.

"But really, thanks." he says, pulling out a bag of weed, rolling up a joint and holding it out to me, "You want a hit?"

Normally, I'd say no- but with the stress of school and my dad- "Yeah, sure. Nice reaction to finding out your sexuality, by the way."

"I prefer just being numb."

And I don't disagree.

Line Break -

After a long time of sitting beside Jefferson and just chatting away about stupid stuff, giggling like idiots every so often, I find myself stumbling out of the room. I really don't have that much of a grip on what is going on around me. I slide down against the nearest wall, taking a long breath, blissfully thinking about nothing.

"Seriously? This is your choice of seating?" Alexander. His voice is deep, obviously upset.

"If I stand, I am falling- most likely on top of you." I tell him simply.

He grumbles, but doesn't protest any further. It's once again back to my serenity within the quiet.

"You know, I'm surprised." Of course, the silence doesn't last long in the face of Alexander Hamilton.

"About?"

"You. Drinking and smoking and not caring. I thought you were a straight A student, never doing anything wrong." he comments, I can almost sense amusement in his tone- or maybe it's me who's amused.

"That's exactly why I do this." my voice is a little weak, suddenly filled with anxious thoughts, "To make the pressure to be perfect go away."

I expect him to laugh at me, but he nods once, "That makes sense." he can obviously sense my shock because he adds, "We all have our reasons for this life.."

"And yours is?"

"I need to prove myself; I'm capable, so I'm going to make myself known." he says coolly, then looks at me, "And yours is pressure to be perfect- why?"

"My dad is a huge politician, my appearance in the world matters a lot to his reputation- so I'm told." I answer, on the inside, I'm upset with myself slightly- why am I sharing this with him? "But it's more about myself and my own anxieties- I want- need to be perfect."

He nods again, "That's why. Perhaps I understand you a little better now."

It's silent between the two of us for a long while, I notice that his focus is no longer on the textbook, and he is occasionally glancing at me whenever he gets a chance. Finally, I meet his glance, holding eye contact with a small smile.

"Can I be honest?" I ask.

"Please. For once in your life." The words could be taken rudely, but he sounds more earnest, like he's desperate to hear my words.

"I'm not thinking too clearly, obviously. But.. you're looking nice tonight- you always look nice, and I would really, really-"

"Just do it." He interrupts.

And I thank a higher power for Alexander's abrupt personality as I quickly shove my lips against his. To no surprise for me, he's a good kisser, his attention fully placed in the kiss. He's non-stop, almost as if he's challenging me to see who has to pull away for a breath first- and much to my own discontent, it is myself.

I move onto his lap, determined to make him pull away first. And for who knows how long, it's just desparate making out between the two of us, as we grab and grind. I'm so caught up in the heat that I honestly don't remember what led us to end up in bed together.

Line Break -

I can physically feel my exhaustion when a door is shoved open, awaking me. In fact, I'm so tired that I can't even react to being jolted awake- not so much as an eye opening. But I don't have to look to recognize Hercules' voice, "Lyra!" he shouts.

There's a shift on the bed and then a voice speaking, "Sh, she's asleep." Alexander.

"You have her in bed with you!?" Hercules sounds like he's about to lose his head, "She's wasted, that's not consent-"

"She fell asleep before anything could even happen." Alexander assures him, voice calm, "We kissed and grinded a bit but that's as far as it went. She passed out in the middle of it so I took her to bed. I didn't want to leave her asleep and alone at a party so I stayed in here to watch her."

I feel my heart pound and my face heating up- surprised by his kindness- hadn't he expressed hatred of me only a few days ago? Sure, we kissed but that didn't mean our relationship changed- did it?

"Uh, thanks." Hercules replies after a long moment of silence, sounding a bit guilty for his accusations, "That's really cool of you."

"Don't mention it. Seriously. Please."

Hercules chuckled lightly, "Alright. I should get this one home." he says, lifting me up from the bed. He walks out of the room and whispers to me, "You heard every word."

A smile breaks on my face, nodding, "Yep." I manage to open my eyes, rubbing at them, "Where are John and Laf?"

Hercules smirks, "Laf decided that he was in good company with Abella and he'd stay." his smirk turns into a small smile, "John and Marzia went home a few hours ago, they were tired."

I smile myself, happy that my boys seem content, "And what about Hollie?"

"She drove home." he says simply, I watch him for a long moment and he grins, "But not before I kissed her."

"That's my boy."

Line Break -

 **Thanks so much for reading! 3**

 **French translations:**

 *** Dieu merci - Thank God**

 *** Ceci est incroyable! Il semble encore mieux sur! Pouvez-vous croire que je suis en train de la fille de mes reves ce soir? - This is incredible! It looks even better on! Can you believe I'm getting the girl of my dreams tonight?**

 *** Magnifique - Magnificent**

 *** Ma petit Lyra! Tu apprends! - My little Lyra! You have learned!**

 *** Juste un peu - Just a little.**

 *** Je ai appris beaucoup plus. Essayex de vivre avec lui. - I learned much more. Try living with him.**

 *** Il suffit de couper le souffle - Simply breathtaking.**

 *** Mon minou - My kitty**

 *** Je vais faire un fou de moi-même - I will make a fool of myself.**


End file.
